Ten Lords A-Leaping

The silent breeze commands all of nature to do as it wills. When the ivy that is wrapped around an old gray tree senses the wind, its clustered leaflets titter amongst themselves, and push each other aside, as if to move out of the wind's way.

A plant that hangs from the gray tree, by a rusted chain, spins slowly, round and round, when the breeze curls past it. Below the drying-out hanging plant, sits a plant whose roots are deeply buried in a pot. Its spiky tendrils quiver under the gust's pressure, but refuse to be pushed aside. Each needle shakes and shivers, but retain their dignity by staying firm.

Behind the potted plant, dance two plants that are tall, but appear to soft to be trees. They make the best of the wind by rocking back and forth, companionably. They closely resemble umbrellas, their protection from the rain being branches with bright green and rounded leaves. At least, they would be bright green if the sun would favor them. As it is, the sun is obscured by a cloudy sheet. All of the plants appear muted, duller, somehow, with the absence of the sun. Perhaps their lack of vibrancy is the reason they bow to the wind.

For that is what the palm trees do. When the lightest breath of a wind makes its presence known, each bluish frond of the palm trees, nods its head in submission. Under the bowing fronds, older, browner branches that have fallen are bent almost in half. They are two weak now to do anything but nod apologetically, when a wind flies past.

But then, in the wind's pushy haste, it blows the clouds accidentally aside, and the sun shines right through. I breathe deeply, as if I could inhale the welcome sunlight. The sun gazes lovingly at every child of Mother Nature, kindly highlighting the best feature of each. My brown hair glows gaily, appearing almost auburn in this light.

Glancing back at the group of growing things, I can tell that the plants' colors have changed as well. Everything seems brighter, more full of life. When a gale comes through now, the plants react in the same way they always have, but there is a sense of hope in the air. I can feel the plants smile enduringly under the wind's oppression. The sun would inevitably be smothered by a pillow of clouds once more, but for these few moments, we all have faith that something fairer was on the horizon.


On the tenth day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me ten sunlit minutes, nine neighborhood noises, eight perfect presents, seven souls a-singing, six sweet surprises, five Christmas treats, four different books, three great dames, two hands two thumbs, and a volunteer named Mary.